Here where I sit, mucked up with Flanders mud,
Wrapped round with clothes to keep the Winter out,
Ate up wi' pests a bloke don't care to name
To ears polite,
I'm glad I'm here all right;
A man must fight for freedom and his blood
Against this German rout
An' do his bit,
An' not go growlin' while he's doin' it:
The cove as can't stand cowardice or shame
Must play the game.

Here's Christmas, though, with cold sleet swirlin' down . . .
God! gimme Christmas day in Sydney town!
I long to see the flowers in Martin Place,
To meet the girl I write to face to face,
To hold her close and teach
What in this Hell I'm learning that a man
Is only half a man without his girl,
That sure as grass is green and God's above
A chap's real happiness,
If he's no churl,
Is home and folks and girl,
And all the comforts that come in with love!

There is a thrill in war, as all must own,
The tramplin' onward rush,
The shriek o' shrapnel and the followin' hush,
The bosker crunch o' bayonet on bone,
The warmth of the dim dug out at the end,
The talkin' over things, as friend to friend,
And through it all the blessed certainty
As this war's working out for you an' me
As we would have it work.

Fritz maybe, and the Turk
Feel that way, too,
The same as me an' you,
And dream o' victory at last, although
The silly cows don't know,
Because they ain't been born and bred clean free,
Like you and me.

But this is Christmas, and I'm feeling blue,
An' lonely, too.
I want to see one little girl's sly pout
(There's lots of other coves as feels like this)
That holds you off and still invites a kiss.
I want to get out from this smash and wreck
Just for to day,
And feel a pair of arms slip round me neck
In that one girl's own way.
I want to hear the splendid roar and shout
O' breakers comin' in on Bondi Beach,
While she, with her old scrappy costume on,
Walks by my side, an' looks into my face,
An' makes creation one big pleasure place
Where golden sand basks in that golden weather
Yes! her an' me together!
I do me bit,
An' make no fuss of it;
But for to day I somehow want to be
At home, just her an' me.

(From the Sydney "Sunday Times")

CONTENTS

An Introduction Mainly About Scouts

PART I

"THE CALL TO ARMS"

CHAPTER

I. The Call Reaches Some Far Out Australians
II. An All British Ship
III. Human Snowballs
IV. Training Camp Life
V. Concentrated for Embarkation
VI. Many Weeks at Sea

PART II

EGYPT

VII. The Land of Sand and Sweat
VIII. Heliopolis
IX. The Desert
X. Picketing in Cairo
XI. "Nipper"

PART III

GALLIPOLI

XII. The Adventure of Youth
XIII. The Landing That Could Not Succeed But Did
XIV. Holding On and Nibbling
XV. The Evacuation
XVI. "Ships That Pass . . ."

PART IV

THE WESTERN FRONT

XVII. Ferry Post and the Suez Canal Defenses
XVIII. First Days in France
XIX. The Battle of Fleurbaix
XX. Days and Nights of Strafe
XXI. The Village of Sleep
XXII. The Somme
XXIII. The Army's Pair of Eyes
XXIV. Nights in No Man's Land
XXV. Spy Hunting
XXVI. Bapaume and "a Blighty"

PART V

HOSPITAL LIFE

XXVII. In France
XXVIII. In London
XXIX. The Hospital Ship
XXX. In Australia
XXXI. Using an Irishman's Nerve

PART VI

MEDITATIONS IN THE TRENCHES

XXXII. The Right Infantry Weapons
XXXIII. The Forcing House of Bestiality
XXXIV. The Psychology of Fear
XXXV. The Splendor of the Present Opportunity
XXXVI. Not a Fight for "Race" but for "Right"
XXXVII. "Keeping Faith with the Dead"